


Suicidal tendencies

by ClaraCivry (Kat_Of_Dresden)



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Gen, Kinda, Rip sadness, RipFic, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Whump, team support
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 23:31:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13421934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_Of_Dresden/pseuds/ClaraCivry
Summary: Five times Rip's suicidal tendencies got the best of him and one time they didn't.Just because the others to love him and care for him, some self destructing Rip and comforting legends.





	Suicidal tendencies

 

You didn't realise it all that easily, generally it happened when they were in the middle of some intense battle, and it seemed like it was the only way to go, the only possible answer. Rip had to offer himself, had to put himself in the line of fire, had to surrender himself so the others could escape. He wasn't the most sefless guy ever, it was simply the most logical course of action.

Only it wasn't. It was too much, too wrong. People started to notice after some time.

I.

“What's going on?”

All sorts of alarm were blaring, making too much noise. Nate had been woken up and found Jax outside a closed door.

“Engine room is on fire. Rip has locked himself in it and is trying to extinguish it.” Jax said, with something between anger and frustration in his voice.

“Alone??”

“He says it would be too dangerous, that the fire could spread and get to critical areas.”

“More critical that the engines?”

Jax just shrugged, looking at the door so hard he seemed to be able to burn a hole through it.

“Wait, you're the engineer and you're... kind of made of fire in firestorm mode. Shouldn't you be in there? Or Mick? I feel that any of you are more suited to deal with fire than a British rogue with no superhuman abilities.”

“Yeah, well apparently we are too important to risk ourselves like that.”

“And he isn't?”

“He said some shit about a Captain going down with his ship, I don't know, man, but that coat isn't enough protection and I am this close to bringing down that door.”

“The Captain has asked me to stop any attempts to come into the room while the fire is still burning.” Gideon said.

“I'm gonna have to ignore you this time, Gideon.”

“Good.”

When Jax came in the fire had been nearly extinguished and Rip was coughing, his eyes glassy. Together, the fire was gone in no time, although Rip had a fairly severe smoke inhalation poisoning. Jax patted him on the back and said, genuinely worried:

“Stop doing this to yourself, man.”

II.

“.... and then I will...”

“You will give yourself up?” Ray suggested, interrupting him. Rip and him were devising a plan in the Captain's quarters, and Rip was so easy to predict. “The same way you've been doing every time a situation like this has happened?”

“It is me they want, Dr. Palmer. I have to step up.”

“Do you? Because I don't know, maybe you could ask the guy in your crew who has four phDs before putting yourself in danger. I know I would. For example, why instead of actually sending yourself you just put one of those images of yourself that Gideon can make. Like astral projection.”

“They will see though the deception.” Rip said, uncomfortable.

“You just said that their eyesight is their weakest spot.”

“We can't risk it.”

“Why not? We've risked a lot in the past.”

There was an exasperated expression in Rip's tired face.

“Why are you fighting me on this? It's the safest way.”

“Not safest for you.”

And Rip lost his patience. He was just trying to get through with the plan and they weren't letting him.

“Who cares about me?”

Ray's eyebrows shot up to the sky.

“Wow. I mean wow, dude. Well, for starters, Gideon cares, don't you Gideon?”

“Very much so.”

“And I do too. I wouldn't be saving the world and reality itself through space and time without you. I'm not saying stop with the reckless behaviour, but when it's as easy as this...”

“Fine. We'll send the projection. But if this fails spectacularly, it will b on you, Dr. Palmer.”

“It won't, you'll see. Let me just get a new gadget I've been working on.”

Rip sighed and was left to brood in his office.

Ray stopped himself before going out.

“And Rip.” he said, almost as an afterthought. “We do care, even if none of us may be good at... showing feelings. But we do. Care.”

Somehow, despite his insistence, Ray didn't think the Captain believed him.

He would have to do something about that.

III.

When Amaya found the guy, he was being strangled by some criminal, the gun too far from him.

Which felt odd. As far as Amaya knew (and from what she'd seen) Rip Hunter was a seasoned Time agent and rogue, a man who could get out of the most difficult situations with just a gun and his wits. So why he had been bested by a lowly thief from the 1920s? How had he let his gun get so far? He was better at this, and they all knew it.

Trying not to think too much about it, Amaya knocked out Rip's attacker and he started coughing, his balance still a bit off.

“Thank you for that, Miss Jiwe.”

Before she could reply anything, there was some noise behind her, and Rip threw himself into the arms of their multiple enemies. Even nearly breathless and outnumbered (and with her help, obviously, although she was too befuddled to function at top condition), he managed to knock them down, although it had been close. That man, throwing himself there, after being nearly choked to death... She couldn't help voicing her concerns.

“Do you have a death wish?”

He didn't reply. Amaya took that as a yes, and decided to look out for that crazy man when they were facing some enemies. 

IV.

They were in a fight with some space bad guys and Sara didn't the gun aimed at her from the other side of the room, and as she couldn't see it, she couldn't dodge it, and it was headed straight to her.... But she felt nothing, because someone else took the hit for her, getting in the way of the blast and collapsing in front of her confused face.

Red was blossoming in his stomach, at an alarming speed. Fuck. Other laser guns hadn't been this powerful, but these guys were using specially strong ones, with the power of ten guns for each of them.

“Rip?”

The rest of the world didn't exist anymore, as she knelt down next to him, looking at all the blood. He half smiled when she came close, and seemed almost... relieved that this happened. At peace.

“I owed you this one.” He whispered, and Sara had trouble understanding. Why would he ever...? Ah, of course because the Evil him had shot her in the gut, so he needed to be shot in the gut in return.

“Stupid. You don't owe me anything for what those guys made you do, your brain was wrong, it wasn't you, stupid, stupid, stupid...”

She was trying to stem the bleeding but it was too much, her hands were drenched in blood and as she apllied pressure to make it stop she was only hurting him more....

“Why would you put himself in there, you could have just pushed me....”

Rip was coughing up blood by now, but it didn't change the oddly serene expression in his bright eyes.

He half whispered something about this being the right thing and just passed out.

Sara had to bring him back to the Waverider under heavy fire, while he was still bleeding, badly.

Gideon nearly panicked (who knew she could even do that) because she couldn't seem to replac his blood quick enough and he was going into hypovolemic shock. It was too close a call, and Rip had to stay in medbay for almost a week.

When he got out, Sara was angry with him. When asked about it, she just said.

“You nearly dying will never be right thing. Your smart enough to know that.”

Rip disagreed, but said nothing.

V.

Martin was interrupted in his reading by Gideon's voice, and she sounded particularly... doubtful, concerned. This confused Martin, as there didn't seem to be anything to worry about. They were spending some time in the temporal zona while Jax did some maintenance on the ship, and Martin had used the time off to many things he'd ben meaning to do: play some chess with Dr. Heywood, learnt some “basic defense tactics” from Miss Lance and was now catching up with some reading.

Nothing worrisome.

“What is it, Gideon?”

“Perhaps it is not my concern, but Captain Hunter hasn't eaten anything solid in the last four days, and I am beginning to worry.”

“It is something to worry about.” When he thought about it, Martin realised that he hadn't seen Rip since their “time off” had started. He had probably been in his quarters brooding, drinking, drowning himself in memories and regret. Not good.

“I was hoping that perhaps you could coerce him into feeding himself.” Gideon said, and Martin smiled.

“Don't worry, I will.”

When Martin arrived to Rip's quarters with a nice plate full of pasta and some orange juice he found the place in a terrible state, papers everywhere, broken glasses and liquor stains on the floor. Ip was on a chair, looking at nowhere, hardly even there.

“I brought you some sustenance.” Martin said, making his presence known.

Rip looked at him, and Martin was taken aback by how lost he looked.

“I'm not hungry.”

“You should be. You haven't eaten in too long.”

He pushed the plate close to him.

“Come on, before it gets cold.”

Rip took the fork and started stabbing the pasta with little strength.

Martin sighed, not knowing what to say.

“I understand that we all have better days and worse days. But you shouldn't go through this alone. Isolation never helps anything.”

Rip had pronounced dark shadows under his eyes. So he hadn't been eating or sleeping. A true paragon of self care, that man. Or lack thereof.

“And what would anyone win if I burdened any of you with my misery?” Rip said, bitter.

“It's not about winning or losing, Rip. It's about you suffering a bit less.”

Rip ate another bit of his pasta, close to tears. For so long he'd been telling himself that he'd been too much of a fuck up and was only useful for his mission. For too long he'd told himself that discussing his issues would be irrelevant and selfish. But now his defenses were low, and Martin's eyes were so kind. He tried to hold back the tears, but it was getting more and more difficult.

“You can cry if you want to. I won't tell anyone.”

And he didn't tell. Martin didn't tell anyone about Rip crying while he was being embraced, about not being able to save Miranda and Jonas, about losing the trust of everyone, about being a shitty Captain. He didn't tell the others that he didn't leave until Rip finished his food, as he would with a nit picking child. He certainly didn't tell the others about how he tucked him in when he fell asleep.

But he knew. And he decided to make a point every time he hadn't seen Rip in a couple of days. In case he needed a nice cry, or simply someone to look at him with kindness.

+1

They were all around him, his team. Covering him when there was some fire headed his way. Asking him to join games, not letting him put himself in the line of fire, or use himself as bait. They were surrounding him, drinking with him in the low moments, sharing ironies in the good ones. It was a work in progress, certainly, but Rip was learning to let himself live again.

Little by little.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked!


End file.
